


Atelerix albiventris - The Domesticated Hedgehog

by Sam_the_Skald



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Daemons and Sexuality, Gay Sherlock Holmes, Gen, It's not explicitly stated in the fic but I'm stating it now, Pansexual John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28144953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_the_Skald/pseuds/Sam_the_Skald
Summary: John Watson's daemon is unique. And smol.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Kudos: 28





	Atelerix albiventris - The Domesticated Hedgehog

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Season 1 of His Dark Materials recently and of course my brain said "What if Sherlock but with daemons??" I saw someone else recently posted a Sherlock/His Dark Materials x-over and it jogged the idea back into my head. So... here's what happened.
> 
> In case anyone has not seen HDM TV Show or read the books: Daemons are physical representations of a human's soul in the form of animals. They are their own autonomous beings but also are an extension of their human companion. As children, the daemons can morph forms but once they hit puberty they settle into one shape that is said to be telling of the type of person they will be as adults.  
> There is speculation daemons can represent sexuality, but I took it to an exaggerated level here, this is definitely not HDM canon.
> 
> I almost want to write multiple chapters of this, but it's kind of cute as-is, too? Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Thinking back on it, John couldn’t wait to join the military. 

His home life had been dismal with his drunkard of a father bemoaning his life and his deviant offspring, and a waifish ghost of a mother who could do nothing to help herself, let alone her children. The elder Watson’s had daemons of opposite gender like everyone else they knew and had met. It was assumed to be the norm. Gertie the bulldog and Ian the ‘rock dove’ (pigeon) fit their respective humans quite nicely, though Gertie had a habit of laying her paw on Ian in a humiliating manner that prevented him from flying away. John always hated that. John’s father found it hilarious. 

The Watson children however, were a bit... different. 

John’s older sister Harry’s daemon had been an oddity with a distinctly female personality like her human counterpart. When Natalie settled into a small, white mutt breed dog (maybe part Papillon? She had huge ears) their father was livid. Not only did he have a smartarse, brazen, probably (definitely) lesbian daughter but she had an ugly bitch of a daemon as well, in his words. Needless to say, Harry didn’t live at home much longer after puberty. 

John’s daemon was even more unique, much to both his and his father’s despair. Dylan would shift genders as easily as they morphed forms. They tried out both for a while, but eventually it was clear Dylan didn’t seem to adhere to any particular gender norms or pronouns. Of course, John loved Dylan as both his constant companion and part of his very soul, but their unheard-of gender ambivalence made living at home tense at best, and hell the rest of the time. When John was 13, Dylan’s physical form stopped shifting and was a hedgehog from then on. They were almost small enough to fit in one hand, with golden quills and white fur except on their snout, which was brown. When asked if they had settled on a gender, however, Dylan merely hummed in a non-committal fashion and said “Don’t care.” 

This caused all manner of speculation about John that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. He endured awkward social gatherings and snickering behind his back through school until he signed up for the military with dizzying alacrity. He knew he couldn’t afford medical school anyway, might as well get as far away from his London suburb and the rumors about his sexuality, or lack thereof, in the process. 

Thankfully, the designation of Medical Corp on his application saved him from being laughed out the recruiter’s office when he showed up with a small, adorable hedgehog peeking out from his jacket pocket. Still, the officer made very little attempt to hide his amusement watching John fill out the requisite forms. Both John and Dylan bristled with stubborn resolution and signed by the X. 

Now, as he lay partial coherent on the gurney with Dylan curled up in the crook of his right elbow and a badly infected gunshot wound in his left shoulder; John thinks maybe his pride got the better of him in that moment. He fatalistically wonders if he would have been better off letting them laugh him away from service and settle for an accounting degree instead. 

\- 

Months and a Medical Discharge later, John sits at a desk in his monochrome brown London bedsit staring at the blinking cursor of his new blog. 

“Just write something.” Dylan says, partially curled into a ball on their back and nibbling on narrow stick of carrot. 

“Write what?” John moans, frustrated. “Nothing worth writing about ever happens.” 

“All the neat places we saw in Afghanistan? Like a travel guide!” They squeak. 

John’s hands clench unconsciously into fists over the laptop’s keyboard. “No.” 

“All the interesting people we met on leave?” There’s a teasing quality to the hedgehog’s voice. 

“This isn’t Letters to Penthouse, you twit. Besides, the therapist said to write about now. How I’m feeling.” 

Dylan’s giggles subside, suddenly gentle. “How are you feeling?” 

_Worthless. Broken. Aimless. Bloody lonely._

“I don’t know.” 

\- 

“John? John Watson!” 

John almost doesn’t turn. He is certain anyone who recognizes him in London can’t be good news, but he was just thinking rather black thoughts so maybe a distraction would be good for him. He does an awkward turn with the cane and before him is a man he vaguely recalls from his residency days but the fact he can’t remember his name must be obvious. 

“Stamford. Mike Stamford. We were at Bart’s together.” The man’s eyes twinkle, and the bitter part of John wonders if Mike is just generally good natured or if he is internally laughing at John’s expense. At the man’s feet sits a beautiful Saint Bernard, wagging their long-haired tail enthusiastically as they look up at John’s face. “I heard you were abroad somewhere, getting shot at. What happened?” 

“I got shot.” 

“Smooth, Mike...” The Saint Bernard says, teasingly. “Hi John, I’m Petunia.” 

\- 

Mike holds the door for John to enter the St. Bart’s Hospital Lab first, followed by Petunia, and then Mike himself. The first thing John notices is the overlapping images of the way the lab looked during his residency and now – the dimensions were the same but furniture, equipment, even the lighting was vastly different. The next thing is the dark brown river otter, about the size of a cat but much longer in body and tail, who comes tearing around the corner of one of the counters to great Petunia. The otter’s face has white on its cheeks and is very expressive. For instance, right now it clearly excited to see the large fluffy dog, and starts nuzzling into her. 

“Hi, Hugo!” Petunia leans forward into the nuzzles, wagging her tail in wide arcs. She takes off to play-chase the critter, weaving in between stools and table legs. Dylan squirms in his pocket, trying to watch the other two daemon’s playing. John feels a pang of guilt that they are too small to join the fun. 

There is a deep sigh from the counter where Hugo had emerged behind, and John sees a man hunched over a microscope, somehow looking annoyed despite most of his face covered by the rubber cups of the equipment’s eye piece. He takes in a breath as he looks up, looking about to say something nasty. Before he can speak, though, their eyes meet briefly before John forces his eyes to continue looking about the room, commenting on how it’s not like in his day to Mike. Instead of making a rude comment, the stranger asks to borrow Mike’s phone. John desperately hopes the split second of holding the burning gaze of the dark, curly haired man hadn’t had as much of an impact externally as it did inside. The moment of intense quicksilver blue eyes on his was electrifying. Then he was handing the stranger his mobile without thinking. 

What in the hell had he gotten himself into? 

\- 

“What is your connection with Sherlock Holmes?” Asked the tall, bleak man with a seemingly permanent haughty scowl and an umbrella hanging from one arm. Behind him sat an enormously fluffy long-hair ginger tabby, with a remarkably similar prim frown. The very tip of its tail curls and releases in a slow, annoyed flick on the pavement. 

“I don’t have one.” The tip of John’s tongue wets his bottom lip; a subconscious nervous tic. He can feel his leg twinge from standing so long. Despite that, his body is on full alert and refuses to sit down. He is thankful for the familiar weight of Dylan in his left breast pocket of his jacket as he continues to stare the man down. “I barely know him. I met him yesterday.” 

\- 

Dylan sits on a checked tablecloth of an Italian restaurant complete with a candle. They watch John carefully as they nibble at a broken off piece of fettuccini noodle, seeing the way his eyes flick over to the tall man with the otter daemon. (Sherlock?) They had seen that look before, just earlier today even, in the car that took them to the warehouse with the scary man and the cat. The woman in the car got a similar look from John as this man is receiving now. Dylan supposes Hugo the otter is preferable to the petite fox that had been curled snugly in the woman’s lap as she typed away on her mobile. The fox looked at Dylan like they were a snack. It was a relief when the woman seemed completely uninterested in John’s advances, despite knowing how lonely he had been since being sent back to London. 

Speaking of Hugo, though, it seems likely they’d be moving in together soon. Maybe it’s time to get to know their new flatmate. They hop down to John’s lap, and then the floor as the two humans speak. (“You don’t have a girlfriend, then?”) 

Dylan scuttles around to the other side of the table and find’s Hugo curled into a circle next to Sherlock’s chair as if sleeping, but his eyes are open. 

“Uh, hi.” Dylan says softly, coming closer so they can use quiet voices. Hugo only watches the hedgehog without moving. “I’m Dylan. I heard your name is Hugo, right?” 

The otter doesn’t reply, but he lifts his head and wiggles his nose, making his whiskers dance. Dylan waits for a few more beats until it becomes obvious Hugo won’t speak. (“I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work...”) 

“Are you not a big talker? That’s okay... Sounds like your Sherlock talks enough for both of you, yeah?” 

Hugo makes an exaggerated eyeroll motion and smiles with his whole face, squinting his black eyes closed. He uncurls further and lays on his belly, head on his paws; a gesture that shows he is now listening intently. Dylan can’t help but find it warmly endearing and waddles even closer. 

“Guess we’ll be living together now. Have you had flatmates before?” 

The otter’s chocolatey velvet ears flatten to his skull. The barest of snarls form on his lips, exposing a flash of his carnivorous teeth. (“I’m just saying, it’s all fine.”) 

“Oh... Not good, huh?” Dylan instinctively curls slightly, now sitting on his quills with his back paws completely tucked in. “I’m sorry. I promise my John will be nice. He is sad right now, and lonely... but -” 

There is a commotion from above them and suddenly Sherlock is running out the door. John reaches to scoop up Dylan and tuck him in the usual left breast pocket before following close after. Hugo bolts to keep up, scooting out the door right behind John’s feet. He catches up to Sherlock, who leans to pull him up onto his shoulders like a living shawl while calculating the best route to catch the errant taxi. Then, all four of them are off into the nighttime alleyways of London at full speed.

\---------

[Dylan the Hedgehog](http://www.jnjpugsnpaps.com/image/134949565_scaled_350x344.jpg)

[Hugo the Otter](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ec/23/53/ec2353540d383aef264e6291b0dfea3e.jpg)

[Petunia the Saint Bernard](https://dogsofsf.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/CIMG0518.jpg)

[Mycroft's Cat Daemon (unnamed)](https://catzone-tcwebsites.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/orange-cat-names-2.jpg)

[Anthea's Fox Daemon (unnamed)](http://www.trbimg.com/img-546f66b5/turbine/la-fg-britain-london-foxes-20141121)


End file.
